


I'll Hold My Breath

by scrapbullet



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Comment Fic, Desperation Play, Humiliation, M/M, Not Beta Read, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:03:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pain in his abdomen is excruciating. </p><p>(Previously titled 'Raining')</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Hold My Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Viceindustrious asked for watersports; how could I say no?

The pain in his abdomen is excruciating. It is a feeling of fullness that, rather than igniting the senses, leaves Coward hunched over and panting as Blackwood holds him up from behind, cooing and murmuring sweetly into his ear. It has been hours since he was forced to drink jug after jug of crystal clear water, and he is approaching the very pinnacle of his limits.

“ _Please_ , Henry,” Coward gasps as he crosses his legs tightly in a bid not to wet himself. It had been an order that, at first, he had laughed at - surely he is more than capable of holding it in! - but now there are tears streaming down his cheeks in a rivulets as the ache within only worsens. “I am defeated! _I can’t hold it in for much longer._ ”

With a cruel little bite to Cowards’ ear, Blackwood is akin to a lion with paws bloody from a successful kill. “Darling, _by all means_ , you have my permission to relieve yourself.”

Those words, so humiliating in their implication, imbues Coward with enough vigour to struggle against his lovers hold, to no avail. Indeed, it only lessens the waning control over his own bladder, and a thin dribble of urine soaks into the cotton of his under garments. 

He freezes, horrified. 

Blackwood, tightening one arm around Cowards’ chest, kisses a hot cheek, and grins. “If you continue in this vein, my love, you will only do yourself injury.” With his free hand he palms Coward’s rigid lower belly, so very gentle. “Shall I help you, hm?”

“N-No, _please-_ ”

Blackwood pushes down, and _oh_ , the first gush is the sweetest. Coward moans, delirious, as the pressure in his gut is gradually alleviated in a hot, wet rush. Piss soaks through his trousers and drips down his legs, and, humiliated, he sobs as each subsequent massage of his lovers dexterous hand forces spurt after spurt from his prick.

“There, there,” Blackwood soothes. “Doesn’t that feel so much better?”

Coward draws in a shaky breath, legs weak. There is a void, now, where that horrible fullness had once been, a spasm of something both painful and pleasurable.

“You are a monster,” Coward pronounces, face pink with anger, but he does not care to move from Blackwood’s embrace.


End file.
